


one more time, one more time

by banditchika



Category: BanG Dream! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, hanahaki syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 12:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banditchika/pseuds/banditchika
Summary: Sayo's always been bad at dealing with her feelings, but she never thought she'd start coughing up flowers because of it.





	one more time, one more time

**Author's Note:**

> before you read: hanahaki is present, which means an emetophobia warning is warranted, though the scenes aren't too explicit.
> 
> the title is from rolling girl, which is Very Sayo Core, in addition to her possibly being related to international pop icon hatsune miku
> 
> good luck to anyone pulling for roselia on jp!! bring them Home!!

Sayo considers herself lucky that it didn’t start during practice.

She first feels the tickle in her throat in the middle of winter, walking back home with her muscles pleasantly sore from kyudo practice. Sayo coughs into her elbow and writes it up to the beginnings of a cold. She goes to sleep extra early that night, annoyed but not concerned, with a bottle of water by her bedside and honey lemon tea warm in her stomach. Sayo might not have gotten as much work done as she would have liked, but surely it was better to lose a few hours of work than spend the next few weeks breathing out of one nostril and fighting back sneezes during class.

It should have been well.

Instead, Sayo wakes up the next morning with her head crowned by pale, wilting petals. She pushes herself up with one arm, watching them flutter to the ground with wide eyes. The thin morning sun shines through the blinds, casting her room in a pale glow—in its light, the petals look almost unreal, like something out of a movie or novel.

Sayo scoops one up, hand absently furling over her tight, tense throat. The petal is pale and soft, a little fresher than the others littering her sheets and floor.

None of it makes sense. For a moment, she’s tempted to call for Hina, to ask if she was somehow responsible—because as much as Pastel*Pallette’s influence has smoothed out the most abrasive of Hina’s quirks, scattering flower petals all over Sayo’s bed while she sleeps is still perfectly within the limits of what Hina finds reasonable.

Then Sayo coughs. She brings her hand up to her mouth and can’t seem to stop, her shoulders shaking with the force of her hacking. Something—somethings—soft and silky fill her mouth, and her room smells sweet—floral, crisp, clean and a little cool, like the inside of a florist’s.

Sayo coughs and coughs, and flower petals pour from her lips.

 _Ah,_ she thinks, watching them flutter between her fingers through teary eyes. _Not Hina, then._

 

* * *

 

She isn’t so lucky the next time.

Things are fine for the next few days. No one questions her at school or around town, where Sayo is just one of many girls with watery, red-rimmed eyes and masks over their mouths. She can go hours without so much as having to clear her throat, and what petals she does cough up can be hidden in a tissue to be disposed of between classes.

A week passes. The disease progresses. Waxy, arrow-shaped leaves accompany the petals, and Sayo begins to spit up pollen with every cough. She can feel flowers brushing against the back of her throat when she swallows. The flowers make eating and drinking hard, and it disturbs Sayo to see herself growing thinner and paler by the day. Her parents worry. Even Hina’s indomitable spirit seems subdued the more Sayo leaves the dinner table to cough up flowers in the bathroom.

But even so, she must persevere. She attends practices. She sticks to her schedule in the disciplinary committee and kyudo club. Pastel*Pallette’s Maruyama stops her in the halls to praise her for dedication, pointing up at her own mask with a sniffle and a froggy laugh. Her clubmates nod with every arrow she sends sailing into the targets, and Sayo considers herself lucky that they don’t notice her fighting to keep her breathing measured despite her too-tight chest.

She doesn’t think about the girl who’s brought this upon her. She doesn’t think about what must be going on inside the cage of her ribs and in her lungs and in her heart. She doesn’t think about anything but school, Roselia, and handling Hina, and things are fine.

Things are fine.

 _Things are fine,_ until Sayo’s chest seizes in the middle of practice and she doubles over around her guitar, heart hammering to the beat of Ako’s drums. She barely pulls down her face mask in time. Petals spill at her feet with every hack and choke, and Yukina’s fine voice cracks as she cries out Sayo’s name.

Warm, steady hands clutch at her shoulders, grounding her as she coughs out a garden full of petals, the easy days where Sayo would hardly even need to clear her throat coming back with a vengeance.

“Sayo, we got you, just breathe,” Lisa—ah, so it’s Lisa that has an arm around her, Lisa that’s guiding her to slump against the wall—says. Sayo lets out one last, wheezing cough, and a single, perfect flower lands on the floor of the studio. She cradles her guitar and pants, eyes blurry with tears from the force of her hacking and the tightness in her chest.

Roselia has gathered around her, practice forgotten. Lisa crouches before her with a grounding hand on her shoulder, and Yukina looms above, an unreadable expression on her face. Ako and Rinko stand off to the side, holding one another. She’s worried them.

The way her chest sinks at the thought has nothing to do with her _complications_ , and Sayo hurries to come up with something to say.

“My... apologies,” she rasps, touching her fingers to her throat. “I’ve…”

She feels the cartilage and muscle of her throat tense, and another flurry of petals spill from her mouth, damp from saliva and pollen. She wheezes and spits out a fully blossomed flower, leaves and all, and watches it drift innocuously to the ground. “I’ve… derailed practice.”

Lisa shakes her head. “Don’t apologize, Sayo! More importantly—are you okay?” She turns to Ako and Ringo, staring wide-eyed at the trail of petals leading to Sayo’s feet and the way she cradles her guitar to her chest. “Hey, Ako—why don’t you go get something from the cafe? Something hot. Sayo likes black coffee, right?”

Relieved at being given something to do, Ako nods so enthusiastically that her pigtails seem ready to bounce off her head. “Y-yeah, okay! Come on, Rin-Rin!”

“R… Right…!”

The studio door slams. The silence that falls is heavy, and Sayo doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know if she can, at least not until Ako and Rinko return with the coffee. She stares down at the glossy surface of her guitar and massages her throat, uncertain.

“Here.” Yukina holds out a water bottle for her. “Drink.”

Sayo nods, not trusting herself to speak. The water is cool and soothing, a balm for her ravaged throat, and even the knot in her chest feels a little less tight after she hands the bottle back.

Yukina accepts it with her usual solemnity. Lisa, still crouched on the ground with Sayo, scoops up the single, perfect flower from its bed of petals and holds it up to the light.

“So,” Lisa says. She cradles it gently in her hands. “Hanahaki, huh…”

“... Yes,” Sayo admits. There is no other condition that would have someone spewing flowers. She wonders—why her? It’s rare disease, especially among young children and high schoolers. There would be an pandemic of students coughing up bouquets if that weren’t the case.

But Sayo isn’t like other students. Her interest in romance has always been minimal. She has Roselia and her guitar at the center of her world, Hina in its peripherals, and her dream cresting the horizon. For so long now, that’s been enough. That much has always been enough, but recently…

Recently, something new has caught her eye.

“Who is it?” Yukina’s voice, steady and certain, cuts through Sayo’s muddled thoughts. Her arms are folded. “Who’s done this to you?”

“Yukina!”

“... My apologies. That was phrased badly.” Yukina averts her eyes. Lisa hands her a handkerchief while Yukina thinks, and Sayo wipes the saliva and pollen from her chin with a nod of thanks.

“Who,” Yukina finally says, sounding out the words with care, “have you fallen for?”

Sayo cradles her guitar closer. Lisa glances at her, then at Yukina, and holds out her hands like she’s placating a spooked animal.

“Hey now,” she offers, ever the peacemaker. “If Sayo isn’t comfortable sharing, it’s not really any of our--”

“She’s from Afterglow.”

Yukina raises her brows. “Afterglow?”

“Yes, Afterglow.” Sayo takes a deep breath and stares down at the body of her guitar, feigning calm. “It’s the keyboardist, Hazawa-san.”

She half expects the admission to be accompanied by a shower of petals or another round of harsh, heavy coughs, but it falls easily from her lips as though practiced, rehearsed, and perfected. She’s glad. It makes it easier to go on. “She taught me how to make cookies.”

“Oh, that explains a lot.” Lisa strokes her chin, then flashes Sayo a smile that shows off every tooth. “Hmn~! She must have really left an impression if she’s caught _your_ eye, Sayo!”

Sayo frowns. It’s meant in good fun, because Lisa doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, but the words still rankle her. She’s aware of how she comes off: aloof, stern, uptight, and yes, all that is true, but even she has feelings. She wouldn’t be spewing out flowers otherwise.

“Yes. In any case, please don’t worry about it. I know better than to let my personal feelings interfere with the band.” Sayo tries to rise to her feet, but something in her chest squeezes and tightens, a discordant note ringing out in the song of her body.

She falls back against the wall, clutching at her chest.

“Sayo!?”

The door smacks against the studio walls. “Ack! Sayo-san!” It’s a stroke of luck that Rinko is the one carrying the takeaway cup, because Ako loses all sense of grace at the sight of her slumped on the floor. She rushes forward, nearly tripping over her feet in her hurry. “Sayo-san, are you okay!?”

“H… Here!” Rinko is with them in an instant. The scent of dark coffee fills the space between them. “Hikawa-san, drink this… and feel better…!”

“Thank you.” The coffee scalds her tongue, but it does the trick--the strangling tightness twisting in her chest eases more and more with every sip. Before she knows it, she’s drained half the cup.

Sayo exhales, relieved when her breath comes smooth and easy. The flowers are manageable again. She can handle this much for now.

“Thank you, Udagawa-san, Shirokane-san. This helped a great deal.” She has to maneuver around her guitar, but she manages to stand on her own two feet without assistance. That’s good. Sayo can’t stand the way her bandmates are looking at her--fearful, even pitying, as if Sayo is as fragile as the flower discarded at Lisa’s feet.

(It’s a gardenia. Sayo looked it up the first time she managed to cough up a full, blossomed flower.)

“I’m sorry I worried you all, but I should be good for the rest of our booking. We should continue with practice.” Sayo returns to her place by the mic stand without looking to see anyone is following.

When she adjusts her guitar strap, she catches sight of Ako and Rinko staring as though she’s just suggested something truly heinous, like kicking a puppy. Lisa and Yukina aren’t much better. Lisa’s brows have disappeared behind her bangs. Sayo is momentarily reminded of her mother at her sternest, the image reinforced by Yukina’s crossed arms and imperious, authoritative gaze. They resemble parents staring down an unruly, uncooperative child, and Sayo grimaces at the thought.

“No. We’re done for the day. There’s no point in practicing if you’re ill and the rest of us are too worried to focus on playing.” Yukina perches delicately on the edge of the stage. Lisa, devoted as ever, takes a seat by her side. Ako and Rinko follow suit--Rinko alighting on Lisa’s other side and Ako cross-legged at Rinko’s feet.

Sayo refuses to join them. While she can’t deny the truth of Yukina’s words, she doesn’t intend to go along with whatever Yukina’s clearly trying to do as easily as the rest of Roselia. “I see. If you see no point in continuing, I have no reason to stay.”

“Sayo…” Lisa can’t meet her eyes, brow pinched with worry behind the sweep of her bangs. “Listen, please—we gotta talk about this.”

“It concerns the band, and more importantly, your own wellbeing. We cannot let it be. How long has it been since your condition began? Have you sought treatment or spoken to Hazawa-san?” Yukina is all business, as she always is when it comes to Sayo. Her no-nonsense demeanor is comforting in its familiarity, making the sting of disrupting practice and being spoken to like a difficult patient a little more bearable.

“It’s been five weeks and three days since I first began to cough up petals. I haven’t had a chance to speak with Hazawa-san yet, and…” Sayo pauses. She licks her lips and stares down at the toes of her shoes.

She has never thought of herself as a romantic or even loving person. She is stern, meticulous to a fault, and far too stubborn: an altogether unattractive combination for those seeking a hand to hold or shoulder to lean on.

But with Hazawa-san, none of that seems to matter. When Tsugumi smiles at her, Sayo can forget that most people find her cold and harsh and difficult to love. She can almost like the person she is when she’s with Tsugumi--the Sayo that Tsugumi knows allows herself to be unsure and take risks; to be more than Roselia’s guitarist, a stern disciplinary officer or Hina’s older and lesser twin.

Sayo likes Tsugumi. It’s new and nerve-wracking and exhilarating, a rush that Sayo hasn’t felt since the first time she picked up a guitar. She likes being with Tsugumi, likes the bloom of warmth that comes with seeing her--she even likes the way thoughts of Tsugumi will distract her in idle moments between one task and the next.

Sayo likes Tsugumi very, very much, and as frightened as she is to admit it, Sayo can see that affection blossoming someday. She can envision it so perfectly that she can’t conceive of that possibility not coming true--can’t stand the thought of erasing it all with an appointment and a surgery, as if her first love meant nothing more than a visit to the clinician’s and a minor secret to be revealed offhandedly, years after the fact.

But as the flowers in her chest prove, Tsugumi doesn’t feel the same way. She doesn’t feel the same way, and Sayo is letting the disease choke the life from her out of sheer foolish sentiment.

She closes her eyes. “And I haven’t made an appointment with my family doctor yet.”

“But you... plan to?” Surprisingly, it’s Rinko who asks, whispery voice taut with pain. She can’t meet Sayo’s eyes, lips trembling as though she can’t believe she dared to speak, or as though she were waiting for backlash. She is trying to be brave. Sayo always has, and still does, respect her for that.

“Yes. I have no desire to become a martyr, nor jeopardize my health any further. There’s no point in carrying on, especially if the very presence of these,” Sayo kicks at a cluster of flowers, “means she doesn’t feel the same way.”

A grim silence befalls them. There’s no ‘right’ response to Sayo’s words, nothing that isn’t a useless platitude or awkward because of the atmosphere. Yukina closes her eyes. Rinko twists her fingers together, picking at the frayed lines of her cuticles. Ako gnaws on her chapped bottom lip.

Lisa raises her hand. Her smile is sheepish, the one she usually uses to smooth over ruffled feathers when Yukina and Sayo are a little too much. It’s so out of place that the band turns to look at her as one. Lisa shrinks back under the attention, but ever reliable, rallies admirably.

“Soooo,” she says. Her eyes dart to Yukina before flitting up to the ceiling. She licks her lips. “Take this with a grain of salt, Sayo, but… what if I told you that it _might_ not be the case?”

 

* * *

 

“What.”

Lisa can’t meet her eyes, smiling shyly at the ground. Yukina is blushing. _Blushing._ She is doing her best not to seem nonplussed, but there’s no hiding the color staining her cheeks, no matter how much she glowers and crosses her arms. Sayo stares at them.

“You’re… dating?” The words feel heavy on her tongue, but once she’s said it, Sayo can’t see Yukina or Lisa any other way.

How could she not have noticed?

She shakes her head. In retrospect, Lisa’s devotion to Yukina has always been… evident, but it never occurred to her that either of them would--or even could, given Yukina’s preoccupation with music--make something come out of it.

Acting on your feelings for a girl? People really did that? Sayo sighs, cupping her face in her hands. It’s really, genuinely mind-boggling.

“And Udagawa-san and Shirokane-san,” Sayo nods at Rinko and Ako, who stand straighter under her attention, “knew as well?”

They nod. Sayo stares up at the ceilings, wary of the tightness in her chest and the gentle brush of petals against the back of her throat. “Then I was the only one who had no idea?”

“It appears so.” Yukina’s still flushed, but she seems to have gathered her composure. “I’m surprised. I was certain you knew. Hidamari Rhonodite wasn’t very subtle.”

“I wasn’t too focused on the lyrics, to be honest.” Yukina shrugs, perhaps anticipating her answer. “And if you behaved differently after…” Sayo’s too flustered to say it. On television, high school is all about falling in love, but when it’s her bandmates? When it’s herself? Sayo has no idea how to react. “...beginning to date, I wasn’t able to tell.”

“Really?” Lisa laughs. She scratches at her chin and grins, eyes shining as she glances Yukina’s way. “I thought I was all over Yukina after we made it official, though.”

“Imai-san, you’ve always fawned over her.”

“Eh? Ah… I mean, I guess you’ve got a point.”

 _“At any rate.”_ Yukina’s face is luminescent. “The point is that everyone experiences Hanahaki uniquely. It’s a finicky disorder. While it may still be the case that Afterglow’s Hazawa might not return your feelings, there have been incidents where an individual suffers the disorder while, unbeknown to them, the object of their affection experiences the same.”

“That sounds very convenient.” Like a television drama or movie synopsis. Sayo frowns. She’s never read anything along those lines when she was doing her research into the disease, but Yukina has never once lied to spare her feelings. She doubts she’d start now. “How do you know this, Minato-san?”

“From personal experience.” Yukina clears her throat. “Lisa and I were one such case, after all.”

“Wait, really!?” shouts Ako, who had looked as though she wanted to melt into the floor while Lisa and Yukina were explaining. Sayo is glad that she’s managed to recover her usual exuberance. She’d have felt sorry if Ako and Rinko went home that night feeling troubled because of her personal problems.

At Yukina’s nod, Ako turns to Lisa. “Uuu… but you got together _after_ the contest for Future World Fes! If you both had Hanahaki, how’d you manage to hide it from us?”

She brings up a good point. Even Rinko looks disturbed at the implications. Did Sayo just not notice, or did Yukina and Lisa manage to hide it? She’s not sure which option is worse. Sayo would like to think she would have known if Lisa _and_ Yukina were stricken by a disease as serious and as obvious as Hanahaki. Likewise, she would like to think that they would trust trust Roselia with information like that. Because while they are a band, Roselia is also…

“Good communication,” Lisa says, interrupting Sayo’s train of thought. She smiles easily at them. “It was pretty rough at first! I really fell apart when the petals started forming. It hurt so bad, I seriously thought I might die… but I couldn’t just keep away, y’know? So when Yukina asked to see me a few days after it began, I just had to come over, no matter how much it hurt.”

Yukina nods. “Yes. I was aware of what the symptoms of the disease were, on my part. I couldn’t let it take away my voice, but I couldn’t get the surgery without telling Lisa, either. So I went to her, but…” She smiles shyly. Ako and Sayo share a bewildered glance. It’s rare for Yukina to be so vulnerable, especially without a cat present, but here they all are. “Luckily, there was no need for more drastic measures.”

“… And it all worked out in the end! Although it’s kind of strange to talk about it so easily like this.” Lisa clasps her hands and raises them to her chest. The humor in her eyes abates, and even her wild mane of hair seems to deflate as her voice softens. “But you know—I can’t guarantee that you and Tsugumi-san are like Yukina and I. I wish I could. You deserve to be happy, Sayo, especially if you like her so much.”

“Imai-san…”

“But you should at least talk to her—for your own peace of mind, if nothing else,” Lisa says. Her smile is hopeful. “And you never know, right? Maybe it’ll turn out well!”

“Hoping for something with no guarantee would be foolish,” Sayo murmurs. “But I see your point. She deserves to know.”

Tsugumi is the first person she’s ever felt this way for. Sayo wants to honor that. Even if Sayo’s confession also ends up being a goodbye, she wants to do things right; to do it all as _properly_ as she is able, with the same devotion she puts into the guitar and finding her sound.

A smaller part of her knows she’s being selfish. As loathe as she is to acknowledge it, a part of her desperately wants Tsugumi’s blessing, no matter how much it might inconvenience Tsugumi to be burdened by the knowledge of her feelings. But Sayo has to do it—has to know. Even rejection, certain as Sayo is that she’ll receive it, is better than having to live with not loving Tsugumi anymore, knowing that she could have _tried_ ; that there was a possibility, no matter how slight, that things could have been different.

Sayo has always been meticulous. There’s no reason to start changing now. She’ll see this through to the end, no matter what the outcome is.

“I’ll speak with Hazawa-san,” Sayo says. The declaration makes her intent seem all the more real. She clenches her fists and presses them against her thighs, pretending that her palms aren’t growing clammy with sweat. “I’ll tell her how I feel, and if things go poorly… I’ll consult with my family and make arrangements for treatment.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Lisa sighs. She clasps Sayo’s shoulder. “You’re really brave. I hope everything works out well.”

“We don’t let our personal affairs interfere with the band, but… Roselia will stand by you.”

“Yeah! Good luck, Sayo-san! You’ve got this!”

“You can do it, Hikawa-san! We’re with you all the way…”

Sayo smiles. No matter how much her heart is hammering in her chest, it’s hard to feel afraid when all of Roselia is gathered around her like this. Lisa, Yukina, Ako, and Rinko; they’re her bandmates, but Sayo has had many bandmates before. Roselia is special. Despite their differences, they think and play together as one unit, one movement of music. And Roselia’s connection doesn’t end with practice—regardless of what will happen when she speaks with Tsugumi, Sayo knows she’ll always have this. She’ll always have them.

“Thank you, everyone.”

 

* * *

 

She sends Tsugumi an invitation to go out later that night.

The response is instantaneous:

 **Tsugurific:**  
oh! i didn’t expect to hear from you today, hikawa-san!

Sayo frowns. Is that bad? Good? Totally neutral?

 **Hikawa Sayo:**  
Yes, I’m sorry for the abrupt message.

 **Tsugurific:**  
aahh, no, please don’t apologize! i’d love to go out with you! : > to the general store again?

She always thought emoticons were unprofessional, but now she just finds them cute. It must be because Tsugumi is the one who typed them.

 **Hikawa Sayo:**  
Actually, I have another location in mind. Would that be alright?

 **Tsugurific:**  
:0c you’re not going to tell me?

 **Hikawa Sayo:**  
You’ll allow me this one secret, won’t you?

Sayo hits send before she can second guess herself. She presses a palm against her burning cheek, for once grateful for her perpetually cool hands. This is how flirting is supposed to go, right?

A checkmark appears beside her last message. Tsugumi’s reply, however, does not.

Sayo’s heart sinks in her chest. She can feel her face scrunching up into her usual glower and rubs her brow, trying to scrub the worry away. Was her message too off-putting? It must have been, if Tsugumi, usually so quick to respond, has gone silent. She should have known better than to trust Yahoo Answers.

Sayo is halfway through typing an apology when the messaging app chimes.

 **Tsugurific:**  
^v^ a surprise? now i’m really curious… i’m excited to find out what you have in mind! do you want to meet in front of the station again?

She’s never deleted a message so quickly.

**Hikawa Sayo:**

h

My apologies, my finger slipped. That’s perfect. Does early afternoon work for you?

A wracking cough seizes her. She brings her hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking as gardenias—sweet-smelling, fragrant and fully-bloomed—flutter from her mouth and onto her bedsheets. When the coughs recede, her hand is covered in a mess of pollen and saliva. Sayo grimaces.

She should never have allowed the disease to progress to this stage. For all the progress she’s made since Roselia, she’s still so quick to fall back on her worst habits, pretending to be strong while running away from her problems. She could have told her family. She could have told _Tsugumi_. She’s a coward and can’t even admit it.

At times like this, Sayo really…

A chime.

 **Tsugurific:**  
the afternoon is fine by me! i can’t wait, sayo-san : > !

An image of a dancing puppy follows.

If it were Hina, the puppy would be followed by a cat, then a horse, then whatever other animal sticker caught her fancy, _because the puppy should have friends, Sis!_ Ako, on the other hand, wouldn’t bother with stickers—she’d send half a dozen lines of dramatic nonsense, and then Sayo and Yukina would be forced to reel her in so that more important messages wouldn’t be swallowed up by _the arrow of darkness! The crashing cymbals of heaven! Her aching blood!_.

Sayo sighs, her breath carrying the scent of gardenias. Her shoulders are starting to tense just thinking about it.

Thankfully, Tsugumi would never do anything like _that._ When Sayo is with her, things grow… quiet, even peaceful. Her doubts and insecurities become as soft as whispers. When Tsugumi smiles at her, the weight forcing Sayo to hunch over her guitar, her desk, her papers—it all seems to melt away. When Tsugumi is near, Sayo’s feet are grounded in the present, basking in the glow of her attention: her rock in stormy waters.

But in a few weeks, that won’t be the case anymore. Sayo will look at Tsugumi and feel nothing—nothing more than a friend’s fondness and the knowledge of what she’s done lingering in the back of her mind. The aftermath of the surgery will be agony. Her preliminary research has convinced her of that much.

To willingly take these feelings and smother them? Sayo thinks the world of Yukina, but even she can hardly comprehend how she found the courage.

But there’s no other choice. Sayo must do what she can—she treasures her feelings for Tsugumi, true, but not more than her life. Not while she still hasn’t found her sound. Not while she still can’t find it in herself to smile easily at Hina or treat the guitar as little more than a means to an end. Not while she still has so much left to do.

She doubts Tsugumi would want her to waste away, either. This is the best choice for all of them. The least Sayo can do is try and do it properly.

Sayo wipes off her hands.

 **Hikawa Sayo:**  
Of course. I’ll see you then, Hazawa-san.

 

* * *

 

The days pass in a blur, and before she knows it, she’s waiting in front of the station. Tsugumi tends to arrive around ten minutes earlier than the time they’re supposed to meet up, so Sayo had shown up _fifteen minutes early_ , dressed in her favorite outfit and the ever-present facial mask.

The station clock chimes solemnly at 11:50. A flood of people pour out of the depot, and Sayo can’t help a smile when she spots a sleek brown bob pushing through the sea of suits and skirts.

“Sayo-san!” Tsugumi hurries to her with her bag clutched to her chest. Her eyes are bright, and something in her chest squeezes tight at the sight of her face, warm, sweet, and open. “I’m sorry, did you wait long?”

“No, I just arrived.” They run through the exact same script every time they meet. It’s routine for Tsugumi to come early and for Sayo to come even earlier, and the normalcy of it settles her nerves, if only a little.

But the hardest part is yet to come. Sayo can’t let her guard down. “Shall we?”

“Yes!”

It’s a lovely day out, the end of winter heralded by patches of blossoms beginning to bud on trees and the sporadic burst of birdsong. Perhaps out of consideration for Sayo’s ‘cold’, Tsugumi fills the air with pleasant, innocuous chatter. She’s dressed for spring, brown hair glossy in the afternoon sunlight, and Sayo can’t help guiltily sneaking glances out of the corner of her eye. She speaks so easily, so carefreely, that Sayo can almost forget that she’s nervous.

Unfortunately, the Hanahaki is far more difficult to ignore. Cold sweat settles on her skin, and she’s too out of breath for having only walked for a few minutes. Sayo begins to shiver beneath her cardigan.

“I’m sorry,” she gasps, interrupting Tsugumi’s partway explanation of her family café’s newest cake recipe. “Is it alright if—if we sit down for a moment?”

“O-of course!” Tsugumi takes her by the arm and leads her to a nearby bench. Sayo sits heavily, burying her clammy face in her hands. She wants to peel off the mask and breath in fresh, unfiltered air, but from the way her chest is heaving, she can’t guarantee that a shower of flowers won’t accompany the next exhale.

It’s fine. It’s okay. She just needs to catch her breath—then they can continue, and Sayo will get her answer. They’re almost through. Sayo is good at hard work and preservation; just a little more of both, and the struggling will be over.

“Sayo-san…” Tsugumi sits beside her, blanching when she catches a glimpse of her face. She rummages through her bag and presses a handkerchief against Sayo’s brow. “You’re looking kind of gray… if you’re not feeling well, m-maybe we should head back? I can walk you back, it would be no trouble at all!”

“No!” The outburst startles Tsugumi, whose hand slips from her brow. The handkerchief begins to fall—Sayo catches it and Tsugumi’s hand, pressing both against her forehead. “I’m alright, just… a little more tired than I thought.”

  
Tsugumi purses her lips. “Are you sure, Sayo-san…? You’ve already got a cold. I don’t want you to get any worse. I-if you’re worried about my feelings or anything, please don’t be! I don’t mind canceling!”

“I’m sure.” Tsugumi's brow wrinkles as she wrestles with Sayo’s answer. _Cute._ The thought comes unbidden. Sayo smiles weakly—if she’s well enough to admire the view, then surely she’s well enough to continue. “It’s only a little farther—I promise I’ll go right home and rest when we’re done here.”

“Mmn… okay, Sayo-san. Ah, but if you feel unwell again, tell me right away!”

“I will.” Tsugumi’s hand is very warm in her own, and very soft. They aren’t as calloused as hers, but the fingers are longer and slimmer—a keyboardist’s hand, that’s for sure. Sayo lets Tsugumi pull her up and is almost disappointed when she pulls away, fingers flexing around the loss of warmth. She tucks it in her pocket so she doesn’t get untoward _ideas_ like looping her arm through Tsugumi’s, or even worse, holding her hand again.

“Sayo-san?”

“Yes?”

“Um…” Tsugumi fiddles with the strap of her bag. “I’m sorry if I’m being rude, but… what kind of perfume are you using?”

… Perfume? What perfume? Sayo hadn’t worn any today, frightened as she was that the scent could trigger a sneeze—which would of course lead to Sayo spewing her feelings and flower petals out of her mouth like a fountain. “I’m not wearing any today.”

“You’re not? Oh.” Tsugumi’s face reddens. “I… sorry! Was that weird? I’m sorry, I wasn’t sniffing you or anything!” She slumps. “It’s just that… I smell flowers whenever you move. So I thought you might be wearing a new perfume… it’s a really nice scent, so I was wondering if you were using a new perfume. B-but since you’re not wearing any, um, it must be strange to point it out, huh?”

She smells flowers?

Sayo swallows with difficulty.

“I see.” She looks behind them, scanning the street for signs of gardenias—nothing. Sayo suppresses a sigh of relief. “Please don't apologize, Hazawa-san. I appreciate your compliment.” She keeps her tone calm and careful, as much for her own sake as for Tsugumi’s. “Hina’s hobby is making aroma oils—perhaps one of her new projects ended up on me, somehow.”

“Ah, that’s right, I think Hina-senpai mentioned that once!”

“Mmm.” Sayo casts a glance at Tsugumi. She’s patting her cheeks, eyes round and wide. The shell of her ear, poking out from the layers of her bob, is flushed red. It flusters Sayo to see it. “Hazawa-san? Do you like floral scents?”

“Ah, y-yes…” Tsugumi looks up, her reddened face dimpling with a smile. “I collect bath powders, and I really like scents that are kinda fruity or flowery.”

“Oh?”

“Yes! You’re actually wearing one of my favorite scents now! Or, no, not wearing—um…” Tsugumi actually _jumps_ in place, hands flapping as her eyes dart about, landing everywhere but Sayo’s face. “Ah, look! The park!” she says, smiling too widely.

It is perhaps indecorous of her, but Sayo is glad for the change of subject. Seeing Tsugumi flustered set off a flurry of butterflies in her stomach, and another reminder of her nerves is the last thing Sayo needs at the moment. “Yes. We’re here.”

“You wanted to come to the park, Sayo-san?” Rallying remarkably well despite her embarrassment, Tsugumi turns a slow circle on her heels, taking in the scenery all around them.

“Yes. It’s lovely today, so I thought…” Flowers tickle her throat when she swallows. Sayo clears her throat and tries again. “It’d be a nice place to welcome spring.”

A bark echoes across the grass. Sayo watches a large golden shepherd bound by, dragging behind them… is that Shisaragi Chisato in sunglasses? If it is her, she pays them no mind, too focused on keeping her pet in line. Sayo inclines her head at them as they pass. “… And the dogs are friendly.”

“Ah… you really do like dogs, don’t you, Sayo-san?” giggles Tsugumi. Sayo’s cheeks warm. “I was really curious about a place you would keep secret, but this is a little unexpected! It’s nice.”

“It’s not really a secret. Hina and I used to play here when we were children.” They begin to walk, not arm in arm or holding hands, as Sayo would still like, but side by side, shoulders and hips almost brushing. “I rarely come here very often anymore, though, so it’s not very familiar to me.”

“I don’t usually go this way either.” Tsugumi’s head twists from side-to-side, drinking in the view: trees whose leaves are just beginning to return, families enjoying the afternoon sunshine, and more than a few dog owners entertaining their pets. “I don’t have siblings, and between work, school, and practice, I don’t really have a lot of reasons to come here. So it’s really nice to visit with you, Sayo-san! Thank you for inviting me.”

“Ah, no… thank you for agreeing to come.” The words come out awkward and stilted. Sayo tries to smile and remembers too late that her mask hides most of it. Tsugumi beams up at her. “Today is important to me, so I’m truly happy we can be here.”

“Important to you?” Tsugumi tilts her head, looking a little like a puppy. Sayo’s not proud that she has to fight the urge to brush Tsugumi’s bangs from her eyes. She’s just… lovely and sweet and _cute_. She can see now why Lisa spends so much time squealing over Yukina—even if she still doesn’t approve of how distracting they can be during practice. “Sayo-san, is there a special event today?”

“Ah? Well, yes.” Sayo is grateful that her mask covers so much of her face. She’s certain she’s blushing. “It isn’t anything public, but it’s important to me.”

“Waa~! That’s great, Sayo-san! Are we going to go see it?”

“I-I suppose we are.” Rather than a blush, Sayo swears she has a fever. Her cheeks feel alight, and her skin prickles the way it does right before she steps on-stage, electric and sharp, a static tingle that travels all the way from her head to her trembling hands. Awareness slams into her—she can feel the muscles of her shoulders tightening into balls of tension, her feet slowing as her knees and elbows lock in place.

And worst of all, the flowers. _The flowers._ She feels the press of them against her throat, almost overflowing—as if her heart were a vase and a field full of gardenias had been crammed into it, mashed down into every vessel and atrium until they spilled over into the rest of her. The shape of hundreds of petals imprints itself against her lungs, her throat, her tongue—

Sayo doubles over, hand clamping around her neck. It’s hard to breathe, it _hurts_ to breathe, and the mask isn’t helping. She tugs it down her face with trembling fingers and tries to remember what it was like to take in air uninhibited by flowers.

“Sayo-san?!” Tsugumi is with her in a second. Her hand rubs over the arch of her back, catching on the folds of her cardigan. “Are you alright!? What’s wrong!?”

“I… I—!” Sayo tries to respond, but her reassurances are swallowed up by a wash of petals—she gags and chokes, hand tightening vice-like around her throat.

But there’s no swallowing this down.

Sayo’s garden spills out at Tsugumi’s feet. She falls to her knees, flower after flower squeezed out from the recesses of her heart, the force of it so violent that it leaves her shaking and scrabbling at the gravel path for purchase. She hears Tsugumi’s horrified gasp past the blood rushing through her ears and can’t do more than squeeze her eyes shut, tears beading at the corners.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She had a _plan_ , a script, and, and—it wasn’t like she expected Tsugumi to return her feelings just because she tried hard, but at least Sayo would have done things _properly,_ as Tsugumi deserved. She would have done right by her first love, and that would have made everything all right. The weeks of silence and pain would have been justified, if only Sayo could have done it right!

But even in this, she’s overshadowed. All her preparation and hard work scattered like music sheets thrown to the wind; and for what? Why?

It’s so senseless. This isn’t like guitar or kyudo, where practice and more practice get her results. What _this_ is, is a freak accident. Practice wouldn’t have changed any of this. She can’t hold herself above others with the justification that her perseverance and diligence will take her past talent’s ceiling, not when this—this is just nature. This is human, a failure of character and circumstance. This is Sayo waiting until it’s too late, until her nerves finally overcome her restraint and a passing breeze or an itching throat pushes her past the brink; until Sayo is just a girl on her knees spilling her guts out in front of the person she likes.

Sayo coughs once. Twice. And when nothing comes out but a thin stream of saliva and pollen, she dares to look up, peering through lashes matted with tears at Tsugumi. Her eyes are so wide, watery with tears, both hands clasped over her mouth as if afraid that, just by watching, a responding flood of petals would flow from her lips as well.

“Sayo-san,” she whispers. “What is this?”

Sayo’s hands move almost against her will. It’s like she isn’t even present in her own body—she watches herself cup a gardenia in her hand, perfect from every white petal to the lush green of its leaves. She holds it out. An offering.

“H-Hazawa-san,” she rasps through a raw, screaming throat. “I’m sorry.”

 

* * *

 

Tsugumi hands her a bottle of water. Sayo thanks her and cracks it open.

They were lucky that Sayo’s incident had taken place relatively out-of-sight. The pile of gardenias and white petals will be strange to anyone that stumbles across it, but they’re far from it now. No one can pin the flowers on Sayo or call the hospital. It’s the small mercies, she supposes. She wouldn’t want to leave anyways, not while she still has something left to do.

That ‘something’ stands before her, even though there’s plenty of space on either side of Sayo to sit. Tsugumi’s lips are pursed together, brow furrowed, dark eyes unreadable. A part of Sayo flinches away from her gaze—another part can’t look away, like if she shrinks back for even a moment, she won’t ever be able to meet Tsugumi so honestly ever again.

“Are you feeling better, Sayo-san?” Tsugumi’s voice is soft, gentle. Something deep inside Sayo aches, and she isn’t sure if that’s the flowers’ doing or the way Tsugumi wrings the strap of her bag in her hands, like she wants to reach out and touch her but isn’t sure if Sayo would be able to withstand it. Sayo wishes she would. The flowers have sapped her of her strength, her dignity, and all the scripts and plans she's made for the day, and what's left of Sayo isn't too proud to admit that at the end of everything, she just wants to feel close to the girl she likes.

But Tsugumi's grip on her bag stays strong. Sayo sighs through her nose and touches her fingers to her throat, raw from everything she coughed up and the grip of her own hand. "I'm... better than I was. I'm very sorry if I frightened you, Hazawa-san."

"No, you didn't!" At Sayo's disbelieving stare, Tsugumi backtracks. "W-well, you did, but you shouldn't apologize for that."

"I feel like I have a lot to be sorry for, to tell you the truth."

“I… well…” Tsugumi's hands relieve her bag of their crushing grip—she waves them through the air, seemingly at a loss for words. She stammers: "Sayo-san, those flowers... were they—that is, are they for me?"

"Yes, that’s right." Sayo wants to avert her gaze, but she's already lost her chance at doing this the way she wanted. She might as well confess what’s left as properly as she can. "I've had Hanahaki for..." She shakes her head. "It's been a few weeks now."

"Oh…" Tsugumi links her fingers together. She twists and tugs at the knuckles, the delicate joints, a nervous tic that is decidedly unwise for a keyboardist, but definitively endearing for Hazawa Tsugumi. "And today's important event? Was it, um..."

"I planned to confess today. There's a small garden near the playground, but no one really goes there during the afternoon. It's too hot for most people, but there's a pair of trees, a bit of shade..." Sayo takes a sip of her water. "I've never done this before, so I was planning carefully. I even had a script. I wanted to tell you, even if you didn't feel the same way, so that I could get the surgery with no regrets."

Tsugumi presses her lips together. Her dimples are little crevices in her cheek, deepening the more she gnaws at her lips. Sayo takes her in, resigned. She’s known from the start that Tsugumi wouldn’t feel the same way—the flowers only proved it, stripping from Sayo even the solace of being able to wish and want.

“Sayo-san…” Tsugumi takes a seat at the bench, the brush of her hip against Sayo's electric and sharp. "Um... Hanahaki only appears if your feelings are unrequited, right?"

Sayo's heart plummets into the pit of her stomach. She feels like she’s going to be sick but isn’t sure what would come out if she was: another deluge of flowers? The actual contents of her stomach? The very thought has cold sweat beading on her brow.

But she must be brave. It takes Sayo everything she has to choke out: "Yes."

"Oh..." Tsugumi's hands form a mesh in her lap as she interlocks her fingers, tapping out silent steps and scales on the backs of her hands. Sayo stares at them because she cannot bear to look at Tsugumi's face, to see the apology written across it and the confirmation of what Sayo had known the moment she woke up in a pillow of flower petals. "Sayo-san?"

"Yes?"

Tsugumi takes a deep breath. She doesn't look up from her lap, where her hands have stilled, white-knuckled and clenched into fists. Her blushing ear pokes out from a curtain of dark hair. "I-I think there must be a mistake."

"A mistake? How could there be a mistake?" Hadn’t she just confirmed that the garden rooted in her chest, the garden that's slowly but surely killing her, the garden that doctors will open her up to remove; hadn’t she make it plain that all of that is for Tsugumi, and Tsugumi alone?

Tsugumi isn't dense. She's a member of the student council, with fine grades and a work ethic that makes even Sayo marvel. She's bright and responsible and Sayo just doesn't see how she can find a _mistake_ in everything that's just happened.

But Tsugumi nods rapidly, bangs flopping on her forehead in a way that should not be cute, should not be endearing. Sayo opens her mouth to clarify while she still has the luxury of breath to spare, but a clammy hand settles over her own, and suddenly, she can’t think of anything to say at all.

The hand is smaller than her own, with slender but short fingers that insistently wiggle their way between Sayo's.

Tsugumi's face is luminescent when Sayo looks at her, the neat cut of her hair baring her flushed neck to the world. Her lips are trembling, pressed tightly together as if to dam some great flood of emotion. The way her bangs fall over her face leaves her eyes hidden, but if Sayo tilts her head just so, she can see the way that Tsugumi is staring wide-eyed and unblinking at her knees with enough intensity to burn a hole right through to the bone.

"There must be a mistake b-because," Tsugumi's hand squeezes almost painfully tight, "your feelings aren’t unrequited. Sayo-san, I like you so much."

"You...” Her heart's pounding so loudly in her ears that she's almost sure she must have hallucinated the words. “What?”

"I like you. I've, um, liked you for a while now. I-I've been meaning to tell you, Sayo-san, but..." Tsugumi licks her lips. "I wanted to do it right. So I've been planning, but..." With her free hand, she gestures out at the park, at the sun shining through the scraggly beginnings of leaves on the trees. “I suppose you beat me to it!”

She must be dreaming. She _must_ be. Sayo stares at their linked hands. Tsugumi’s grip is so tight that Sayo swears their hands must be melting together—she’s holding on like she’s afraid, like if she let go, Sayo would slip right through her fingers.

Hesitantly, Sayo runs her thumb over Tsugumi’s. It's as solid as anything. She feels Tsugumi stiffen beside her, then the way she relaxes in increments. Tsugumi turns, peers up through her bangs, and wonder of wonders—

Sayo can breathe.

For the first time in weeks, she can _breathe_. It's like a crushing weight has been lifted from her chest. Like the way her body unwinds after playing a good live, trembling from the strain of perfection and the pleasure of having done everything _just right._

Sayo laughs, and the sound is light and airy, unfamiliar to her own ears. Tsugumi's voice joins hers, hesitantly at first, and then with more surety, more warmth. It's like being in the general store together again, laughing over ribbons and bags and their messy, muddled feelings.

Tsugumi’s hand is very warm in her own, and very soft. Sayo closes her eyes and feels, for the first time in her life, something truly close to peace.

Her cheeks ache from smiling. “Hazawa-san?”

“Yes?”

“I know that it's your favorite scent, but I don't want to smell anything gardenia-related for years."

 

* * *

 

The things she does for love.

“Soooo,” drawls Aoba Moca, gazing at the two of them with half-lidded eyes. “Tsugu finally brought her girlfriend home to meet the family~” She bows her head, shaggy gray bangs falling over her face. “It’s nice to meet you~ I’m Tsugu’s mother, Moca-chan…”

“Moca.” Afterglow’s vocalist, Mitake Ran, has been staring at Sayo for at least ten minutes now. Sayo is used to dealing with people that could be deemed unnerving—she lives with Hina, after all, for whom social awareness may as well be nonexistent. But Ran hasn’t blinked at all, and despite Tsugumi’s hand clutching her own beneath the table, Sayo is decidedly unsettled.

Moca carries on, unaware or uncaring of the fact that Ran seems to be trying to bore holes in Sayo’s face. “Oh~ and this is Ran. She’s my wife. Say hello, Ran.”

Ran does not say hello. Tsugumi shifts nervously. “Everyone…”

“Sorry about them.” Ako’s sister, Udagawa Tomoe, gives her a conspiratorial wink. “Ako tells me you help her with her studies. Thank you for taking good care of my little sister.”

Sayo bows her head, determined not to look Ran’s way. “No, it’s no problem. If Udagawa-san’s studies ever became a issue, she wouldn’t be able to focus on the band. And it’s helpful for me to review old material. Our arrangement works out well for the both of us. She’s very bright.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Tomoe’s all smiles. “And I guess we should thank you for taking good care of our Tsugu, too.”

“Tomoe-chan!”

“Yes!” Bright-eyed Uehara Himari practically flings herself across the booth to clutch at Sayo’s free hand. She jerks back, startled by her sudden proximity. “Tsugu’s been talking about you for weeks, you know! I’m really glad to see it worked out well!”

“Himari-chaaan!”

“Hii-chan, isn’t this where you give her the ‘ _talk’_?” Moca whispers, for all the good it does—Sayo can hear her as clearly as if she’d stood up on the table and shouted. “You spent so much time grumbling about what you’d do if Sayo-san ever broke her heart.”

Himari’s face flares bright red. “Ah! Moca!” Himari practically flings Sayo’s hand back at her.

"Mmhm, you were going to beat Hikawa-san up, riiiiight~?" Moca's grin is practically a leer, every pearly white tooth bared. "I think Ran would help. Hikawa-san, are you good at fighting? Hii-chan doesn't look it, but she's pretty strong. Ran isn't, though, so you won't have to worry about her."

"Mocaaaa!"

"Damn it, Moca, stop running your mouth!"

"Ah," she says, and the gleam in her eye reminds Sayo of a cat about to bat a glass off the counter. "But if Hii-chan and Ran get beaten, then you'll have to fight Tomo-chin. She doesn't want to fight, of course, but if it's for her girlfriend and mom's honor..."

"Oi, Moca, your fantasies are getting out of hand," Tomoe sighs, pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead. Himari beats at Moca's arm with tiny, ineffectual kitten punches. And from the way that Ran is glowering, Sayo suspects that, when she heads home, Ran will be having _words_ with her 'wife'.

"Ehh? What fantasies? Moca-chan's just giving our new in-law a warm welcome. After all," and Moca untangles herself from Himari, reaching out to pat Sayo and Tsugumi's free hand. "We're family now, right? Roselia and Afterglow, joined in matrimony~"

"Don't say it like _that!_ " Ran sighs, pulling Moca back across the booth. "Hikawa-san."

"Mitake-san," Sayo says, meeting Ran's glower with an even stare. Tsugumi's grip tightens.

"Ran-chan..."

"Make Tsugu happy," Ran interrupts. She breaks eye-contact first, cheeks dusted with pink. She must find the salt and pepper shakers very interesting. "She's part of Afterglow, and we care about her more than anything. So if you do anything..."

"I'm not the type of person to be so careless about my blessings," Sayo says firmly. She lifts their joined hands, setting it on the table. Himari gasps. Tomoe whistles. Ran folds her arms.

And Tsugumi, red-faced and flushed all the way down to her neck, smiles. Sayo returns it, only half as widely but no less sincere. "Hazawa-san is special to me, too. It's unrealistic to say that I'll always make her happy, but I swear: when I make her upset... or unhappy, or when we fight—I'll do everything I can to work together with her. I'm not perfect, but Hazawa-san, if you let me—"

Sayo ducks her head, cheeks burning. "I, er. I want to try to be."

"Sayo-san..." Tsugumi's hand climbs up to her shoulder. Sayo's heart pounds more wildly than any beat Ako's ever drummed as she leans in, pulled in with almost magnetic force.

A click. She's torn away from the rich warmth of Tsugumi's eyes by a bright flash. She turns to see Moca grinning down at her phone, thumbs tapping away at the screen.

"Oooh, I got a picture of the ultra rare lovestruck Hikawa-san. Lisa-san will be real happy to get this..."

"Aoba-san!?"

"Moca-chan, no!"

_"Moca!"_

**Author's Note:**

> the working title for this was "local girl is gay, doesnt tell crush until she's almost dead, didnt notice bandmates were married until they told her after she nearly fainted during practice"
> 
> anyways thank you for reading this story! bandori sucked me in like an industrial vacuum so if you wanna talk about girls being gay, just slide right into tumblr user banditchika's DMs n go off ab yukilisa or something, i live for relationship analysis and wildly gay headcanons!!
> 
> (unless u ship the sisters or smth equally nasty. just don't show up in that case i don't want to know you exist)
> 
> edit: now with [ fanart](http://lunar-earth-apple.tumblr.com/post/174279193023/banditchika-hey-bandit-i-love-you-and-ur-lesbian) from the very lovely, very wonderful moony!!


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